


Coming Home For Christmas

by Modest_K



Series: Astoria [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drabbles, Grief/Mourning, Sisters, descriptions of death, harry potter fanfiction club challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:05:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27370159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Modest_K/pseuds/Modest_K
Summary: Astoria Greengrass writes her sister some Christmas letters.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy
Series: Astoria [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153379
Comments: 14
Kudos: 26





	1. Star

December 25th, 1998

Dear Daphne,

This is bloody ridiculous. I don’t know why I’m sending you a sodding letter when you’re  _ upstairs _ . Just come down here! Mum’s pulling out the “why-does-my-child-hate-me” tears and Dad’s getting ready to blast your door down— literally. I get that you’re in a mood these days, but I don’t get to see you much now that you’re out of school! 

Come keep me company.

And need I remind you, it’s  _ Christmas. _ So get your sorry arse down here, because it’s your bloody turn to levitate that stupid star on top of the stupid tree! You’re eighteen, Daph, just grow up. 

You don’t even have to stay for long. I’m asking you to put up a star. 

One. Bloody. Star.

Your loving-but-annoyed sister,

Astoria (obviously)


	2. Gift

December 25th, 1999

Dear Daphne,

It was weird, not having you with us today. I don’t think I’ve gone a Christmas without you home before. A selfish part of me sort of liked it for a bit— I got extra presents, per the only-child treatment that Mum and Dad have taken to thrusting upon me for the last few months. I don’t think they have any other idea as to how to handle your leaving. I’m not sure why they’re taking it so hard, if I’m being completely transparent. It’s not like they saw much of us when we were at Hogwarts, and you’ve made it perfectly clear that this place is too “stuffy and constricting” for your liking. I think that’s how you phrased it, but correct me if I’m wrong.  ~~ Though I know you won’t. ~~

Were they this clingy over you when you graduated and I was still in school? You never said. Granted, you haven’t said much period, so maybe ignore that question— though I’m sure you would have already. 

I think it was the Christmas shopping that really made your absence  _ noticeable.  _ Mum felt this gift buying void _ ,  _ and she filled it up as best she could by shelling galleons into more presents for me. 

That initial, selfish enjoyment of mine wore off after the fourth present. Then I just wished you’d been here to take the gifts that were always meant to be yours. 

~~ Lov ~~

~~ Come ba ~~

Take care,

Astoria


	3. Crackling

December 25th, 2000

Dear Daphne,

We had a new fireplace put in last week, just in time for Christmas. Mum thought the old one wasn’t working— said something was wrong with the Floo network. 

It wasn’t broken. You just haven’t come to visit, and she needed to rationalize your  ~~ selfishness ~~ independence by blaming a fireplace.

I get that you don’t want to write me back, but you really should write Mum, you know. She worries about you constantly, and I think the stress is starting to get to her. She’s just been so tired lately, yet she sleeps  _ constantly. _ Her eyes are lined with these awful black rings and I think she’s growing paler. 

Truthfully, I don’t know if it’s just stress anymore. Dad won’t admit it, but I think he’s terrified. He paces around his study sometimes— I would know, since my room’s right below it. His nightly footsteps have become a lullaby of sorts.

But sometimes, after the gloomier days, his pacing gets too loud, so I sleep downstairs by the fireplace. 

_ That’s _ a lullaby. The soft purr of the flames and the crackling sparks make for such a long, peaceful night’s rest. I don’t think our old fireplace allowed for as nice of a crackle. This one’s bigger.

There’s more room for a nice echo. 

Merry Christmas Daphne,

Astoria


	4. Blizzard

December 25th, 2001

Dear Daphne,

It stormed today. It was one of those untamed, blustery ones that keeps you trapped in your house all day. I suppose you might have felt it yourself, if you’re still living around here somewhere. Truthfully, I have no idea. 

~~I just wish~~

~~I’m not angry~~

The house was so cold. It was the sort of cold that makes your cheeks hurt, and your nose run, and your fingertips numb. I looked like that stupid reindeer or whatever it is from that weird Muggle song— what’s his name? Randall? I don’t bleeding know.

Dad was casting charms left and right to get the cold out, but the blizzard was so damn stubborn, almost as much so as Mum’s stupid cough. The blankets did nothing and the fire did even less. 

And it was so quiet. Dad apparently had nothing to offer in terms of words, and every time I thought about speaking, I’d catch his miserable expression and Mum’s shaking hands and then I just wouldn’t know what to say. On top of that, there was no crackle today.

All I could hear was the wind. 

And her coughs.

I hope that your Christmas has been better than ours, Daph. We ~~need~~ miss you. 

Yours,

Astoria


	5. Ice

December 25th, 2002

Daphne,

I suppose you’ve probably heard by now— or maybe you haven’t. Maybe, wherever you are, the Daily Prophet doesn’t come, and the obituaries don’t lay under your nose with names of people you’ve known forever screaming up at you. 

It screamed at me. It screamed  _ loudly _ . 

The healers were useless. “Something’s wrong with her blood.”  _ Obviously _ something was wrong, or she wouldn’t have bloody died. 

Have you ever touched a dead body, Daphne? Have you ever felt the stiffness of a lifeless corpse, after finding someone you’ve loved and treasured forever completely still in her bed, with skin so icy cold that you worry she froze to death during the night?

She didn’t freeze to death, in case you’re actually at all curious. Something was just wrong with her blood. 

Somehow that was enough to suck the warmth out of her flesh and turn her skin to absolute, cutting, raw, rigid ice. 

~~ The funeral will be ~~

I do hope you’re enjoying your freedom, wherever you are. 

Astoria


	6. Spice

December 25th, 2003

Daphne,

For Christmas this morning, I gave Dad this weird, ancient looking cylindrical thing that was covered in runes. I have no idea what it does, but he’s always been into those dark looking objects, hasn’t he? I got it from some seedy shop in Knockturn Alley, and you know who I ran into there? _Draco Malfoy._ Of course, he had no bloody idea who I was— you and I hardly look alike and he’s two years older— but we sort of fell into conversation when I snagged Dad’s present. I guess he’d wanted it himself. 

He’s got quite the attitude, you know. He called me a greedy bint for refusing to give it up, and I in turn called him an arrogant prat. 

The next thing I knew, we were making dinner plans. 

He smells really good. Is that odd to say? He smelled like nutmeg and saffron. It’s some sort of cologne only a rich bloke could afford, I’d imagine. I’m rather fond of it, I think.

Anyway, Merry Christmas.

Astoria


	7. Travel

December 25th, 2004

Daphne,

This is probably a stupid question, but I feel like I ought to ask it regardless. In fact, you’ll probably just roll your eyes when you get this— if you’re even still getting my letters, that is— and throw it aside and go back to doing whatever glamorous thing it is Daphnes do to occupy themselves.

I wanted to ask you to come to my wedding. It’s to be held next month— a short engagement, I know. ~~I’m definitely not pregnant~~

I’d really love it if you could be here for it. I realize how ridiculous I’m being; if our mum's death wasn’t going to bring you back, why would my wedding? But I felt like I had to try. 

We’re going to Belize for our honeymoon. I’m going to make Draco endure a bunch of Muggle stuff and he’s going to grumble and tell me he hates it, but he won’t really. I like to think he loves me enough to just be happy when I’m having fun. I haven’t left the country in ages; it’ll be fun to travel again. 

You don’t have to let me know if you’ll make it to the wedding. But just try?

Hope you’re well,

Astoria


	8. Gold

December 25th, 2005

Daphne,

I almost addressed this to “Auntie Daphne,” since that’s what you are now. Draco and I are getting a little carried away decorating for Scor’s first Christmas— well, fine,  _ I’m _ getting carried away. Draco just watches me and rolls his eyes and tells me that I’m being ridiculous. But then he kisses me, so he’s doing a really rotten job at pretending that he finds me mental. 

It’s as if Scorpius knows that Christmas is coming- he’s three months old, so that hardly makes sense, but I swear he’s been smiling more and more lately, like he’s excited. It’s the most adorable, perfect smile that anyone has ever managed. It just radiates the absolute purest, golden sunlight that lights up the entire manor. It’s completely lovely.

You ought to meet him; I think even  _ you’d  _ find it magnificent. 

Happy Christmas Daph,

Astoria


	9. Tree

December 25th, 2006

Daphne,

It’s been a hell of a Christmas this year. 

Do you remember the time that Dad invited the Nott family over for dinner? Back when Dad wanted to get in good with that lot?

Theo, he was about your age, wasn’t he? The two of you must have been around twelve. We went outside and he started pelting me with snowballs— ice balls really. I remember running away from him, my nose bleeding, and climbing the maple tree to get away. I remember you climbing after me, yelling for Dad the whole time. Theo didn’t follow us up the tree, but he kept throwing those awful chunks of ice. 

I remember a branch giving away, and my stomach jolting because I thought I was going to fall and die. I remember you grabbing me and tugging me close to you before gravity could give me a proper tug. I remember Dad yelling at Theo before he asked the Notts to leave, and I remember the weird tingle I felt when he fixed my nose. 

I buried him under that tree. Dad, that is. 

I buried him yesterday, under that massive maple tree that I would have fallen out of all those years ago, had you not caught me. I buried him next to Mum, and I sat by their graves all afternoon. 

Just thought you might have wanted an update. But you probably didn’t. 

Astoria


	10. Dreary

December 25th, 2018

~~ Dear ~~ Daphne,

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’d scarcely noticed how many years I’d let go by without a letter. It doesn’t matter, though. You wouldn’t have responded to them. You never did before. And I was the idiot who kept trying, wasn’t I? The blooming moron who sent letter after letter, who signed them “love” and “hope you’re well” and “Merry Christmas.” 

~~ I hope you’re having a shit Christmas, Daph. ~~ Draco got me the most lovely earrings for Christmas today, and Scor made me the sweetest card. You’d have thought a three-year-old made it, rather than a thirteen-year-old, but I appreciated the thought. 

The thought, Daph. That’s what I get from my husband and my son. I get their loving thoughts, every day. 

Do you think about me? Or about Mum and Dad?

When you left to “get away” to your precious “freedom,” did you mean for this, to never see me again? To never meet your nephew? Perhaps it’s just been too long now, too long for you to come back and be received with open arms before we slump together on the couch like nothing’s changed. Perhaps it’s just too late.

A life alone is a dreary one, Daphne. 

But it’s the life you chose, isn’t it?

Astoria

P.S. Since my letters obviously mean nothing to you, I won’t bother again. 


	11. Fleece

December 20th, 2019

Dear Daphne,

I’m sorry. I said I’d stop. But here I am, writing you another bloody letter. I’m writing this one from under a fleece blanket, actually. It’s so bloody heavy, I can’t get the stupid thing off of me. Of course, that could be the weakness, but I can’t accept that I’m too pathetic to lift a bloody blanket. 

I’m sick, Daph. It’s all I know these days, all I hear. There’s no crackling fire or howling winds. There’s just my own coughs. 

I bet you can guess what the healers have been saying: “There’s something wrong with your blood.”  _ Useless. _

I’m sorry for everything I said. Maybe it’s been years since I’ve seen you, but I have to hope you know I didn’t mean it. 

This blanket’s supposed to keep me warm, but it’s just heavy. It’s like a pair of hands shoving me down against my will. If it weighed anymore I’d be  _ inside _ the couch. 

I’m not strong enough for this— for the fleece, that is.

But I feel like if they lift it away, and take away the force and the pressure and the constraint, then it’ll just be cold. The kind of cold that only comes with cutting, raw, rigid ice. 

I’m worried about Scorpius and Draco. I don’t know that they can manage without me, honestly. 

Look, I’m just sorry, Daph. I don’t know why you stay away, but I’m sorry anyway. 

I love you.

Astoria


	12. Family

_ Family _

December 25th, 2019

The path up to Malfoy Manor was hardly visible beneath the snow, but Daphne wasn’t paying her steps much attention regardless. Her eyes were fixated on the front door. They didn’t stray from it, not when she nearly tripped over a step, nor when snow started to shovel into her boots. 

A few moments after she knocked, it swung open to reveal a pair of curious blue eyes.

For a silly moment she thought it was Draco, fourteen all over again, rather than her nephew. Her family. 

The boy uttered an eloquent, “Uhhh, hi?” that nearly made her smile.

An older version materialized from behind Scorpius, and Draco Malfoy’s surprise at Daphne’s arrival was obvious.

They led her inside to the sitting room, where Daphne found her sister on the couch under a fleece blanket, a fire crackling nearby. 

Astoria was barely recognizable, both because the sisters had aged, and because her complexion had turned so ghastly. 

They stared at each other in a roaring silence, until Astoria asked, “Would you like to sit down?”

Daphne swallowed the rock in her throat and nodded.

She sat beside Astoria, who rested her head on Daphne’s shoulder and let her eyes shut gently while a tiny, peaceful smile stretched tentatively into place. 

Daphne closed her eyes too, the tears on her cheeks stinging her skin in the brisk cold of Christmas morning. 

But then Astoria took Daphne’s hand, and for a moment they were both warm. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry it was so sad ahhhh. The worst part is it ends in 2019. How do I warn my characters about the coming pandemic??
> 
> Anyway, thank you to anyone who read! Hope you enjoyed <3


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